


Letters

by AudreyRose



Series: January 2013 writing challenge [4]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyRose/pseuds/AudreyRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint writes Bruce during the zombie apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the challenge I was doing back in January before my laptop went haywire. For the prompt: Angrybirds - Letters: Clint and Bruce are separated during a zombie apocalypse.

Clint forced his eyes shut, his hands shaking as he held the pen to the paper. He couldn't help it, forcing a breath out he glanced up wondering where Bruce was. He hoped Bruce was alive and breathing and not one of those... Things. Swallowing thickly he started to write.

 

_Bruce, I'm sorry. If I was braver I would still be with you, beside your side. Not here, practically alone for all that matters. The camp is quiet most of the time these days, but every so often there are small out breaks of them... I hope you aren't mad at me still. If I could apologize to your face I would. But I can't so this is the next best thing. I'm a coward, I've been told that more times than I can count since this whole thing started. I try to help, but I can only do so much. This whole thing is fucked up and it just doesn't register in my brain. I keep thinking that this is all some kind of nightmare and that if I try hard enough I'll just wake up. That I'll be curled against you, in that ridiculously over sized bed we shared back at the tower..._

_I miss those quiet moments when it was just us, soft whispers and touches. Do you remember those days? Back before the first outbreak? When we all had still been a team? That's why I still wake up, still fight every day. In hope that something like that will happen again. That I can wake up and be in your arms again. I... Nothing makes sense without you being here with me. I don't even know if you'll get this... If you are still mad at me... I hate not knowing, or hearing anything about what's going on out there anymore. It makes me miss those fucking phones so much. It must be hell for Stark having limited resources like this, having to actually write things out. I guess I'm just rambling now, aren't I? I never know I'm rambling unless someone tells me. You used to smile and laugh before shaking your head at me. I miss your smile, your laugh..._

_I miss you._

 

Clint let his head hit the wall with a quiet thunk as he set the pen down, his throat thick with some emotion he'd rather it remained unnamed. Breathing out he folded the letter three times before placing it into the envelope and sealing it. He hoped Bruce would get it, even if he didn't write back. He just wanted... No needed him to know he was sorry about not leaving with him. Swallowing again he wrote Bruce's name on the envelope and stared at it. He pressed it to his heart and silently prayed to hear from his lover.

 

_Bruce, I miss you so much._

_I don't know if the last letter reached you or not. If it did and you're still mad I'm sorry, truly. I can't handle this much longer, the not knowing. The silence. It hurts. I don't know why I'm writing this, I don't even know if this will reach you if I'm honest with myself. But it settles my nerves a bit and I guess it helps. Gets out the things my brain get out. There aren't many of us left here, there was a attack in the middle of the night about a week ago. I... I need this to be over already, to be back beside you if you'd still have me. I hope you would still have me..._

 

Clint looks up hearing a noise and sees Steve watching him a sad smile on his face. Clint let's his eyes lid and the Captain clears his throat. "I know what it's like," he speaks after a moment and he remembers Tony. Steve and Tony were together, Tony and Bruce and Hank were all on the other side of the country. The archer nods silently and drags his knees to his chest. He just wants to be alone. Needs to be alone right then. His sanity screaming for him to just be quiet. Steve picks up on Clint wanting to be left to his devices and nods at him before leaving him alone again.

 

Clint tugs at his hair roughly, tears stinging at his eyes. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be. News of the camp Bruce had last been at. Ambushed by those creatures that had at some point been living breathing humans. No news of survivors. Therefore no news of Bruce. Before he even registered what he was doing he heard the sob. This wasn't real. Couldn't be real. Bruce needed to be alive, needed to be okay. Clint needed him to be okay. To come back to him. He curled into a ball, his shoulders shaking as he let his emotions out. His vision was blurred when he managed to pull himself together. He rubbed at his eyes until he saw spots and he swallowed. He let himself breath as he sat up, feeling drained of emotions. Shakily he forced himself to write.

 

_Bruce._

_I will pray to every god I've ever heard of, just please, please, please be alive. I need you to be okay. I don't think I can survive this without knowing... I just heard about the attack, and I know you said you can't be killed... But this is so, so, so different. I doubt you'll even get this, but I need to write this. It helps, imagining these letters reaching you. Thinking that you'd smile softly and write back every time. Its kind of pointless for me to write this letter isn't it? Who knows it might reach you if you're still yourself. Are you still you? The quiet soft spoken scientist I know and love? Or has this thing changed you? Has it brought out the worst in you like it has so many others? Or... Or is the reason you haven't written something I don't even dare imagine?_

_Please come back to me._   
_Please._

 

Clint wasn't by any means religious. Never had been, no god had ever answered his prayers. But he had met Gods, been controlled by one and then later fought beside one. And then he had met Bruce. Bruce was everything and more than he could ever ask for. He loved and lived for the other man. But since this had happened he would pray and pray that his Bruce would come back at the end of all this craziness. Swallowing he forced himself to relax, his hand beneath his pillow, fingers touching the edge of a photo. It was torn and damaged but it was one thing he wouldn't leave behind ever. A image of him and Bruce smiling and wrapped around the other. He silently breathed out his whispers for the other man to return and allowed himself to fall into a fitful sleep.

Clint was awoken by someone crawling into his bunk behind him. His eyes shot open and he tensed, ready to fight. He turned and his voice caught in his throat as he met all to familiar brown eyes. "Hey," that voice that Clint had dreamed of hearing again, slightly rougher and quieter than he remembered. Swallowing he blinked and his forehead pressed against his. "I'm sorry," Bruce murmured his fingers moving up to card through Clint's short dark blonde spikes.

"Bruce," his voice sounded rougher than he would have liked. He didn't care and he clung to the other man, not daring to let go.


End file.
